


Siblings

by szm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szm/pseuds/szm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Mycroft have a chat (set maybe a month after season 2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siblings

Mycroft rang the doorbell, feeling somewhat apprehensive, this was not normally something he would have dealt with himself but this was hardly a ‘normal’ situation. The hallway was decorated in pale neutral colours, polished wooden floor. The woman who opened the door was 5’6”. Sandy blonde hair cut short, practical but fashionable as well, clearly an expensive cut. The woman obviously regularly visited a salon. She was wearing the ‘Sunday afternoon uniform’ of jeans and an old shirt, good quality cloth and stitching so nothing cheap, but casual. The woman had a job that was mostly weekdays, Sundays very clearly down on the schedule for ‘relaxing’. Skin of both hands showing signs of being submerged in hot soapy water recently. Probably had washed the car this morning. So not a church-goer. But likely a lover of routine. Would of course help her to deal with her alcoholism. Slight tremor in left, no both, hands. Not noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. Pale skin made the dark circles under her eyes stand out, even though they were covered expertly in make-up. No wedding ring, but a faint mark were one had rested. Most likely worn continuously for 5+ years, removed 2 or 3 years ago. 

So, professional woman, late thirties, divorced, no children (immaculately decorated hallway). Alcoholic (Mycroft had passed a recycling bin full of bottles on the way up the path), but holding down a well-paid job, functional alcoholic. In short, John Watson’s sister. Mycroft had known all this before he’d rung the bell of course but in was always good to confirm these things with one’s own eyes.

“Hello? Can I help you?” asked Harry. 

“Mycroft Holmes,” replied Mycroft. “I’m here to speak to you about your brother.”

Harry sighed in a way very reminiscent of her brother, right down to the tilt of her head. But she opened the door wider. “Please, come on in.” Tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Harry led him though to a painfully neat sitting room and gestured to a cream leather armchair. “Take a seat, would you like tea or coffee?”

“Tea would be lovely. No milk, two sugars. Thank you,” replied Mycroft, allowing his hostess to escape to the kitchen. He theorised that much like John she would find the act of making tea both comforting and fortifying. No reason to put her ill at ease, he required her cooperation after all.

Harry returned with two mugs of tea, and sat on the sofa, the nearest seat to where Mycroft was sitting. Mycroft sipped his tea while Harry looked uncomfortable. Unfortunately Mycroft was well used to the look. He waited for her to get it off her chest.

“I was sorry to hear about your brother,” she said eventually. 

Mycroft wondered meanly if she was sorry about his death, or about his loss of reputation. He couldn’t help but wonder what she believed about Sherlock. It doesn’t matter of course, what Harry Watson or anyone else thinks they know about Sherlock. Mycroft knows exactly what his brother always was. He was there as Sherlock was formed. But still, he wonders what ‘normal’ people make of it.

“John always spoke very highly of him,” she continued.

“Thank you,” Mycroft interjected. “I am… concerned about Doctor Watson.”

Harry dropped her eyes slightly. “John is fine,” she said. A flat statement, leaving no room for argument.

“I’m afraid I must disagree, Ms Watson. John has been very withdrawn since my brother’s death. He has cut himself off from his friends. Barely leaves his flat unless it is to go to work. His work colleagues are concerned about him. As is his therapist, he is avoiding his sessions…” Mycroft laid out the facts as clearly as he could. 

“He’s going to work,” interjected Harry. “He’s avoiding sessions, but he hasn’t cancelled them altogether. The rest is just… John. He’s hurting.”

“Harriet,” started Mycroft putting as much disapproval as he could into those three syllables.

“ _Harry_ ,” she corrected her eyes flashing with some emotion Mycroft couldn’t place. 

“Apologies,” said Mycroft coldly. “Would it surprise you to know John owns an illegal handgun?”

Harry narrowed her eyes. “What are you suggesting, Mr Holmes?”

“That it might be advisable for you to check in on your only sibling, Ms Watson.”

Harry stood. “I think it’s time for you to leave,”

Mycroft stood as well. “As you wish. But do please think about what I’ve said.” He held his hand out but Harry crossed her arms across her chest. “Perhaps not then. Good day.”

Harry followed him to the door. She waited until he was halfway down the path before she spoke again. “He won’t forgive you.”

Mycroft froze but didn’t turn round. “I don’t know…”

“Whatever it was you did,” she continued quietly. “John… John is not forgiving. Not if you don’t live up to what he expects. I’ve seen this before, because everyone wants John to _like_ them. They want to impress him. Then somehow they let him down and he can never forgive them. Because he’s the best man in the world but he’s really not very nice.”

“He never forgave you,” replied Mycroft meanly.

Harry just chuckled sadly. “God no. He always loved me but could never forgive me. I spent a really long time chasing it too.”

Mycroft knocked the side of the recycling bins with his umbrella. “The bottom of every bottle?”

There was no reply, just the sound of the front door closing. Mycroft climbed into the waiting car and it pulled away.

**

 **Harry** : John, you okay?

 **John** : I’m fine.

 **Harry** : Do you own a gun?

 **John** : What?!

 **Harry** : Answer the question, Johnny

 **John** : Do you still keep an emergency bottle under the sink, Harriet?

 **Harry** : I’m fine

 **John** : So am I

 **Harry** : You’d tell me, if you weren’t?

 **John** : Yes, of course. You too?

 **Harry** : Of course. Love ya bro ;-) lunch on Tues?

 **John** : Love ya too sis. Busy on Tues. Next week sometime?

 **Harry** : Sure, txt me.


End file.
